You Are the Stars
by Captain Silence
Summary: Rhaegar returns to King's Landing after vanquishing Robert with a child. Elia knows whose baby it is.
**A/N: Prepare for more Elia/Rhaegar fics in the future because these two are just too much fun (and too cute) not to write more of. (Also probably expect more of Lyanna/Rhaegar) (or y'know just Targaryen Era in general) As always, these guys are not mine and please read and review!**

* * *

 _ **You Are the Stars**_

When the lonely silver prince rode slowly towards King's Landing, and the horns were sounded, she was already working her way down to the courtyard to greet him. He was dismounting when she arrived and she made a move to greet him but then she saw what was nestled in his arms. From the Holdfast she hadn't been able to tell and hadn't thought anything of it. From here, she could see that it was a child, a newborn babe that was very much alive.

She stopped, one palm up against a pillar as she watched Rhaegar hand off the bundle to the maester, instructing the man in a low tone that the child be taken care of until he could speak to his wife. She swallowed hard, stepping backwards. His eyes flickered upwards, those brilliant violet orbs and they snagged on her own dark eyes. He stepped towards her, a flash of pity across his war torn face. She saw her name formed on his lips. "Elia."

She offered a trembling smile his way and shook her head, hand sliding from the pillar in a way that suggested she no longer had the strength to keep her arm there. She turned from him, her dark hair falling in curtains across her shoulders and her face. She hoped it did a decent job of hiding the tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill down across the bronzed skin of her cheekbones.

For sake of her dignity, she walked slowly away from the courtyard, but once out of sight, she picked up her pace, fleeing up the stairs, hiking her light summer dress up to make her plight more manageable. She rushed to her rooms, closing the door behind her and leaning her shoulders against it. From the corner of the room, beautiful Ashara Dayne stood and stepped towards her lady, her fragile Dorne princess.

Ashara treaded across the room with a grace Elia did not possess. Perhaps if she did, that would be her child in Rhaegar's arms and not the child of the Stark woman. The thought jarred the breath from her as her knees buckled and she slid the length of the door until she could sink no lower. There could be no other. Rhaegar had only ever shown interest in Lyanna Stark. The child had to be hers.

The realization shook her core, and more undesired tears rushed to the surface and spilled over across her cheeks. There was a sigh from above her curled form, followed by the rustling of Ashara's skirts as the other woman lowered herself down beside the princess. Elia, forehead braced against her knees, did not look up. She didn't want the other woman to look upon Elia's unflatteringly puffy eyes or tear streaks across her cheeks.

Ashara let her wallow for a few moments more before her dainty hands clasped Elia's less dainty. "Stop it," she said, squeezing the other woman's hands. Her voice, usually low and coy, was stern, rippling with a strength Elia herself didn't believe she possessed.

Elia swallowed the lump in her throat and lifted her head to look at Ashara; stunning Ashara with her long black tresses and deep eyes. Those eyes normally so welcome, now cold with disappointment. Elia shrank beneath their violent violet stare, which brought forth another pitying sigh from Ashara's lips.

"You give him too much power," said Ashara.

"He is my husband and my prince," replied Elia, taking on cold hand back from the warmth of Ashara's to knuckle away the dripping tears.

Ashara's eyes rolled as though Elia were an ignorant child. "Let him think he rules the world," she said, her eyes flashing, "though remember, that throne belongs to the queen." With that, Ashara Dayne hoisted Elia to her feet and ushered her to the vanity to repair the mess Elia's tears had done to her face.

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x.x.x

* * *

When Rhaegar came to her, Elia was standing at the balcony, overlooking King's Landing and the aftermath of Robert's Rebellion, as the war had already been named. The soft brush of wind played with the loose strands of Elia's intricate updo. Even with the kohl rimming her eyelids and swiping off towards her hairline, Elia was not beautiful. Even with the wind attempting to free her hair from it's tight confines, Elia was ordinary. Even her caramelized skin was not beautiful, instead pallid with the sickness that often plagued her frail body. It was if the Gods had once had a stunning image for Elia Martell but then realized her destiny did not do for one so beautiful and instead gave what beauty she may have once possessed to Ashara Dayne and Lyanna Stark instead.

Behind her, the door creaked and she turned, the last rays of sunlight catching in Rhaegar's silver hair. Even he was more beautiful than she. He looked better than he had earlier. A dark bruise still covered his jaw on the right side and his left eyebrow was gashed through. He favored his left leg as he stepped inside and she was sure the rest of his body, covered with a fine maroon tunic bearing the sigil of the Targaryens, was covered in injuries. He possessed all the grace a king should, despite his not being king yet.

Elia forgot Ashara's earlier words and stepped into the room, only to drop into a bow. She was not kneeling for long before Rhaegar knelt before her, capturing her small, chilled hands in his and holding them. Her head lifted and their eyes once more captured each other and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

Perhaps she was just a mere child, as Ashara's chiding earlier had suggested.

"Please," said Rhaegar, her hands still clutched tight in his, "you bow to no one. Least of all me." He must have seen the difficulty she had swallowing for he tugged her towards him and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pressed his face into the side of her neck, his hot breath tickling the hair at the nape of her neck, as she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, her fingers twined into the fabric of his tunic. A sob hiccuped her shoulders and his arms tightened a fraction about her, as though just his closeness could ward off all the ailments of the world.

Elia surprised herself. She did not cry more than a few tears despite the sob that had built up her chest. She forced it down, swallowing the desire; it hurt going down. When they leaned back, her hands still against his chest and his at her elbows, Elia dared to look into his eyes. "I must bow to you," she said and rushed on even as he shook his head, "you are my prince and-"

"I am your husband," Rhaegar pressed, moving a hand up to cup the side of her face. "And you will not bow to me, even when I am your king. I have wronged you, Elia and I never want to see you bow to me again."

Her brows knit together as she looked into the conviction in his gaze. "Rhaegar-"

He cut her off with a shake of his head, strands of his silver hair falling across his brow. "No," he squeezed her arm, "you are stronger than that, Elia. You see yourself here on the ground, reaching for the stars…" His hand moved to cup the back of her neck, his thumb grazing where her cheek met her jawline, "You _are_ the stars."

Her lips parted in pure awe of the man kneeling before her, holding her. She could not utter a single phrase for fear of the words being retracted. Never had something like that been said about her. About Ashara, of course, but never she.

Rhaegar took her hands again and raised her to her feet, pressing a kiss to the top her head and then pulling her to an embrace once more. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent and finally asked about the child.

"His name is Jon," said Rhaegar.


End file.
